We love this young woman like a sister, because she loved our Mom like a mother and called her "Mama D." She is an ebony-skinned African who originally comes from the Ivory Coast and has such a gentle expression in her large beautiful brown eyes. She wept tonight, showing us photos on her phone of the patients at the nursing home whom she was closest to who have since died, wept when she showed us a photo of Mom because she'd been unable to see Mom before she died. She'd wanted to be there to pray for her. Our friend prays several times a day; in fact she and Paul, who prays from the Breviary several times a day, were comparing notes about praying when they got home tonight.
Our CNA sister was the staff person who could always get Mom to eat and drink when others couldn't - because of the love and respect she showed Mom. Her culture had taught her a deep respect for family and for the elders of a family. Her faith radiates from her person; her belief in God informs her entire life. On her breaks she would pray at the nursing home, often in Mom's room. Somehow, she says, Mom always knew when she was praying and remained quiet.
Our friend lost her beloved husband of five years recently, and wept again tonight, showing us a video of him dancing, and then a video of him in his coffin. Our family always feels honored when people we love trust us enough to cry with us. We inquired about Ivory Coast culture. Had hers been an arranged marriage? No, the two of them had been free to choose each other.
Isn't it amazing, she commented as we discussed culture, that most Americans only know one language? She knows three: French (the Ivory Coast was at one time a French colony), one of her country's native languages, and English. My sister Donna and I lamented that our father never taught us the Italian language. Paul lamented that his parents didn't teach him German or French. We feel rootless; if we knew the language and customs of our grandparents' country, they would enrich our lives immeasurably. But somehow that generation thought that their children had to be "divorced" from their family's native land in order to be true Americans. Yet the diverse cultures and religions of the people in our country enrich our country immeasurably. We cannot point to a historically specific "American" culture. What makes America so unique is that everyone who has ever lived here, or their family, was an immigrant at one time, including our Native Americans.
Paul and I feel blessed to know many who have settled here from various African nations: the Ivory Coast, Nigeria, Kenya, Sudan, Rwanda. They tend to be - because I don't want to stereotype anyone - such naturally affectionate, warm people, apt to give you a hug and kiss when they first meet you, devoted to their families, respectful of authority and schooling, hard working, grateful to be here. Many move as if they are ready to dance at a moment's notice, and for many of them, song, dance and drumming are woven into their liturgies, including here in the States, sure signs that God, Author of Diversity, loves to be approached, talked to, and praised in a thousand, thousand ways.
Why am I writing about what seems to be an ordinary get-together? Because in some ways it was, and in others it was not. Friendship, laughing and crying, and eating together, is part of everyone's life. But skin color and culture still get in the way of friendship and unity here in America. America's original sin was racism, and it's still unfortunately alive and flourishing. How many whites and blacks in the U.S. have actually hugged and kissed people of a different race, or considered them friends or family? How many would even touch a hand that's a different color from theirs? How many people still think that their race is superior to every other one out there? Yet, as Pope Francis says, "Inequality is the root of all social evil."
It is only in working on friendship, hugging and kissing each other, sitting around tables eating, laughing, crying, and sharing attitudes, prayers, and dreams with each other as equals, that God's people of different races and ethnicities will ever begin to heal the great and sinful wounds that separate us.
"Racism is a sin: a sin that divides the human family, blots out the image of God among specific members of that family, and violates the human dignity of those called to be children of the same Father....It mocks the words of Jesus; 'Treat others the way you would have them treat you.' Indeed racism is more than a disregard for the words of Jesus; it is a denial of the truth of the dignity of each human being revealed by the mystery of the Incarnation." (from the U.S. Catholic Bishops' document "Brothers and Sisters To Us," written in 1979.)
Wonderful prophetic words. Yet, how many of our U.S. Church congregations are truly integrated? How many clergy, including priests and deacons, in U.S. mainstream Christian Churches are black, brown, yellow, or red? How many realize, for example, that some elderly members of our congregations remember a recent past in which blacks were told they had to worship by themselves in store-front Churches and were not allowed to enter seminaries or religious communities?
These same elderly parishioners saw "black only" or "white only" signs on restaurants and rest rooms, and knew the reality of society's ban on racially mixed dating and/or marriage. Yes, they remember these things from their own lives. Have things moved that much farther forward attitudinally in only fifty or so years? Let me ask you: on how many tv shows and in how many movies do you see black, brown, yellow or red actors or actresses who are THE heroes or heroines instead of the convenient side-kicks?
Our white Pastor of three more or less racially mixed parishes is concerned that many white Americans believe that the Black Lives Matter cause is racist. He agrees with the words of a person in a crowd on a Fox news show discussing this issue, who said " Of course all lives matter. Of course all Oriental lives matter. Of course all Hispanic lives matter. Of course all white lives matter. Of course all police lives matter. But for those people who feel victimized; for those people who, over and over and over again, are the subject of wide-brush prejudice, black lives matter most to them because they're hurting so badly."
Hurting badly, you say? One of the reasons that I love to hug my black friends as warmly and tightly as I can is because I remember the tear-stained words of a black woman friend who told me that when she was clerk at a store, white customers deliberately avoided touching her hands when she gave them change. At that point in her life, she didn't even want to touch a white hand at the sign of peace.
Hurting badly? Yes, the white teachers who care at inner city schools are hurt badly when obviously badly hurt black students challenge "whitey" to teach them as if only other blacks could really teach them anything or really care.
The wounds of racism and reverse racism are deep and infected. Only prayer, love, listening, and compassion can heal our badly divided country.
Hurting badly. Yes, many, many people are. God is hurting in every one of them. Just think about how immeasurably much you can accomplish as one of God's Ambassadors of Reconciliation if you indulge in some dinners out, talkative desserts at home, and exuberant hugs, - and your guest list reflects God's delightfully diverse Creation.